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Saturday, 31 August 2013

Nice end to the day.

Lat night turned out brilliantly. I gave my wife a present of  some clothes and we went out for an inexpensive dinner at a small wine bar. She hit the white wine quite heavily early on and since we went by taxi I have to admit that I ordered the second bottle surreptitiously and she did not notice the steady top ups.

By the end of the meal she was whispering things like how naughty I am and how she was glad to have the cane and paddle back in her hand and how much nicer I am after a smacked bottom. I thought one or two people might have overheard but could not see anyone looking at us.

Back home I made a play for her in the living room and she made no objections. 

In no time I had disrobed her and I was on my knees whilst she stood with one foot on the sofa, offering open access to her warm soft lips. 

Giggling she pulled my head away and said I could kiss her somewhere else if I wanted to. She turned and knelt up on the sofa seat and offered a gorgeous bare bottom to me. Still on my knees I shuffled behind her and ran my kisses up and down the groove of her cheeks and then used my tongue on her rosebud in small hard circular movements. She spread her legs wider and I almost buried my face trying to lick her from the front of her cunt and back up to her anus. The groans of pleasure spurred me on to ever more licking and kissing.

After a full five minutes or more of sexual gorging,  she turned her body and flopped back into the sofa with her legs open in front of me. I began serious work on her clitoris and mound and my darling wife orgasmed quickly.

She carried on coming using the flat fingers of one hand and ordered me to strip and wank in front of her. With one foot she pushed and rubbed  my balls in a way that was both painful and pleasurable.

"Make sure you catch it," she said as I got close to coming. "Then you can lick your hands clean."

We staggered up to bed leaving the clothes scattered around the room.

I drifted off to sleep with the the mixed taste of hers and mine cum on my tongue.

It is good to be back in the groove and I hope that it is not short-lived.

Friday, 30 August 2013

Sunny days still

I have two days paid consultancy so there will be a bit more spending money in the household before the end of the month. I saw a pretty outfit in a shop window the other day so I think I might buy my wife  a present and take her out for a meal tonight.

The summer is still persisting so everyone seems cheerful.

There was a particularly pretty girl on the road yesterday trying to keep a short skirt in place as she dismounted and remounted at a set of traffic lights. 

I pretended that I had stalled the car so as to give myself a few more minutes watching her.

 This girl looks like she would be fun to be with on a picnic outing.

Thursday, 29 August 2013

A walk in the woods

Tuesday was quiet and I still had a nice warm glow in my butt from the hairbrush on the night before. I did some job hunting on the internet and some household chores. It was one of those glorious sunny days but not too hot so I went for a walk in the woods between jobs. I daydreamed on my walk about receiving a switching in the outdoors. Something which involved me being tied to a tree. 

It won't happen of course as my wife would be too nervous about being discovered.

A few years ago there was a blog by Ms Marie who lived in North America or Canada and frequently took her husband into the woods for a switching and even a whipping I seem to remember. She closed her blog unfortunately but it was fun while it lasted. I didn't save any of the photos which she posted.

There is something about being naked outside so I have to confess that I took a whippy branch from a tree yesterday and cleaned off the leaves. Delving in amongst the trees away from the path I removed my trousers and pants and gave myself a quick self-switching. It was not the same as having someone else do it to me but it did give me a warm feeling on my skin and I savoured the naughtiness of the whole thing. 

I fantasised about being seen and having a nice young lady in jodphurs tell me that I didn't have to do that,she would gladly whip me for exposing myself in public.

Hey ho, dream on.

Wednesday, 28 August 2013

Gardening can have its rewards

Here in the UK on a national holiday in the summer if you are not away on vacation you either visit a garden centre or go to the beach if the weather is good. Yesterday my wife suggested that we visit the garden centre and then have lunch out. I groaned inside  my head as I hate trudging around these places and  I hate even more the work that follows in the garden once she gets her purchases home. Her motto is “I pick,you dig.” 

Of course I did not verbalise what I was thinking and I looked cheerful about her suggestion and off we set.

I followed her around the lines of plants for a while and then we got split up. Wandering to the edge of the nursery I came across a section of “sale” plants. These were unloved and in the main half-dead plants and shrubs. 

I spotted a bamboo in a pot which had about 6 stems and was in need of attention. At £5.00 I thought it might be worth saving so I picked it up and went off to find my wife. The idea of training some bamboo growing in the garden that might be freshly cut for a switch was appealing.

“Can I buy this?” I asked when I found my wife near to the autumn/winter planting section.


Because I think I can rescue it and it would look in that shady corner by the side wall.

She looked at it  and then smiled at me. “ And do you have anything else in mind ?”

“Yes ma’am., but you said the other day that I had to ask before I bought another implement.”

“OK then. Now help me with these and then we will go look for a suitable pot for your caning tree. It can’t go in the ground because that stuff grows like wildfire.”

I placed the bamboo in the trolley and set about assisting with her selection of plants and shrubs.

By the time we left the nursery it was clear that I would be digging for a day or more to get everything planted.

We had a pub lunch and then went home. I dutifully carted her purchase from one corner of tehgarden to another as she decided where to place things and then changed her mind. By the end of the afternoon she was happy with things and announced that she was hot and sticky and going for a swim at theleisure centre. She told me to get busy and plant things nicely in the ground.

As dusk fell I was finished and she arrived to inspect my work. I had watered everything in and had turned the hose on myself a couple of times to ccol off. The bamboo was settled in its new pot and I thought it was already looking happier.

We had supper and watched TV and then my wife announced that I had been such a diligent gardener that she would give me a reward.

“Go and fetch the hairbrush and you can put on a pair of those knickers of yours and wait for me in the bedroom. Don’t forget to close the windows and curtains.”

Excitedly I headed off to do her bidding. I showered and got prepared. When my wife came into the room she smirked at the sight of me bulging out of the knickers.

“What would your friends say now if they could see you now?”

I stiffened as she picked up the hairbrush and sat on the end of blanket chest.

"Come  on then you naughty boy. Fancy wearing girlie knickers. You should be ashamed of yourself. I hope they are not a pair of mine."

She carried on the scolding as I bent over her knees and stretched out my legs, pushing my bottom to the centre of her lap. Pulling the pants up tight with one hand she began to spank me hard with the brush.

My wife knows how to get the best out of her gardener. Now I just have to get that bamboo to flourish.

Tuesday, 27 August 2013

Bathbrush mood

Oh for some stress relief in a session like this -  Bathbrush spanking.

I could go over my wife's knee right now if only she was at home and in the mood.

Monday, 26 August 2013

Deviations in the mind

My wife isn't working today, Monday, as it is a public holiday over here. So last night we stayed up late watching some DVD's which we hadn't got around to seeing and finally climbed into bed after midnight. 

We lay there for a while, then my wife pulled down her PF bottoms and tapped my head with her finger, indicating that I should go down on her.

I got into a kneeling position and leaning on one side she yanked off my pants and began to caress my bottom. 

Licking her midfriff and inner thighs I got closer to the triangle with little blow kisses and then discovered quite a lot of curly hair. My wife usually keeps herself very well trimmed so this was an unusual state of affairs.

What was more unusual was the sudden thought that flashed through my mind that I was actully going down on a penis. 

The amount of hair I encountered had made me think of male genitalia and not smooth female vaginas. The idea stuck and in my head I expanded on it. Here I was sucking a cock of some stranger and wife was standing behind me telling me to do a good job. She was thrashing me with some sort of switch whilst I bobbed my head up and down.

As I sucked on the real vagina I framed my lips into an O and made sort of pushing movements with my chin so that I came up hard against her pelvic bone and underside of her mons. She wriggled a lot and I wasn't sure if it was pleasurable for her. I got the message that it might be when she started to use her nail and fingertip around the edge of my anus. I thrust my bottom back trying to get her to go further but she just teased me. She knows I get really hard on any suggestion of anal play.

 My fantasy of sucking cock became more vivid in my head and I visualised myself taking more of the prick into my mouth as the switch cut harder imaginary strokes on my bottom.

My wife came in a writhing of hips and legs and when she was calm I lay there, just licking her cunt in slow movements. When I felt she was ready again I started to push my mouth on her but she pulled at my hair to indicate that she wanted to carry on alone with her own fingers. She can give herself orgasm after orgasm this way once I have brought her off orally.

I lay on my back and watched her play and took my own prick in my hand. As I pumped away I restarted the blow job fantasy in my head and watched myself in my imagination getting the thrashing of a lifetime whilst the man refused to come. I imagined that I had been set a challenge to be whipped until I brought him off. The harder I tried the more he held back and the more I was thrashed. 

Nearing my own climax I asked my wife if I could come?

She said no and I had to let go of my prick.

Maybe tomorrow if you're a good boy, she said.

I got up from the bed and with my erection falling away to nothing, I retrieved her pyjama bottoms from the floor. Bending  over her body  I carefully turned the trousers the right way out and rolled them up over her legs. She lifted her bottom to let me pull them to her waist and I spent a few seconds letting the palm of my hand caress her bare bottom cheeks. I ached to roll her over on her tummy and spank her but I knew that was a no-no.

By the time I was back in bed she was asleep.

Sweet dreams my love.

Sunday, 25 August 2013

Searching and finding - part 2

The days sped by between my e mail exchange with Adriana and the sunny Wednesday evening when I walked from my hotel to Whitaker’s restaurant. It wasn’t far and the Oxford streets and lanes were pleasingly quiet. The university buildings were hidden behind high walls and the ancient seats of learning were tantalisingly visible through narrow gateways. I wondered which of these led to the college where Adrian studied, if indeed she really was a student.

I was given a table in the centre of the restaurant but then asked for a quiet booth table. When I was told they were for four people I offered to buy some expensive wine and tip generously. The charming waitress agreed.

 I was early for our reservation, so I sat there sipping a Chardonnay and casting my eye over the other diners whilst keeping watch on the door. I amused myself by thinking of little scenarios involving the people at the tables. There was a particular couple where the woman was exceptionally attractive and I had fun thinking of what she might enjoy doing in the bedroom. At one stage she rose to go to the bathroom and caught me looking at her. She smiled, that pretty smile that a young girl gives an older man – you can look but don’t touch. I certainly enjoyed watching her slow walk to the services as she was wearing a shirt top, belted at the waist and then tight leggings cut off at the ankle. Her Roman sandals looked delicious against the sunburned feet and pink varnished toenails. Dream on I thought.

I should say here that I am not really that old. At 42 I look after myself and am not particularly tubby or ill-kempt. I work in advertising and selling space demands attention to how you look. Everyone judges a book by its cover so keeping trim is important. I have had many girlfriends but just never found the right one to marry. I think I enjoy my independence too much.

Just after 7.30 the restaurant door opened and in walked a dark haired woman in her late 20’s. She was dressed in smart jeans with a small jacket over a white blouse. What struck most of all were the spectacles she wore under her tied back hair. As she looked around the room I gave a small wave with my hand. I was the only single place in the restaurant so I figured that if she was Adriana she would be looking straight back. As the waitress approached her the woman pointed straight at me, said something and strode over to my booth. 

I got to my feet as she approached and as I wondered if I should shake hands the decision was taken for me. Her right hand was extended palm down so I knew that I should bow and kiss it.

“Hello Michael.”

“Miss Adriana. A pleasure to meet you.”

"Let's hope so."

She slid onto the seat bench opposite me and, as I took my place, I offered her some wine.

“Get down on your knees and kiss my shoes.”

I started at bewilderment.

“Go on. You said were submissive so show me some respect."

I looked around the restaurant and then, in an exaggeratedly careless move, I  pushed a knife and my napkin off the table.

Sliding down onto my knees in the tight space of the booth, I had my bottom sticking out and my head near her legs. I lowered my face and planted a kiss on the leather of each shoe and then onto the exposed skin of each ankle.

“Good boy." I heard her say. "Now get back up and let’s order some food. I am starving.”


Saturday, 24 August 2013

Standard sort of Saturday at home

Not a lot to report today. It has been raining cats and dogs here after many weeks of sun, so it was day for indoor chores. My wife set off early for the shops and is still not home. She might be having a drink in town.

I am doing a little pc time right now taking a browse and looking for inspiration. I finally got round to using Picasa to set set up a slideshow on the page. Take a look on the right. I will add to it and maybe come up with other ideas. All this blogging takes some work and time.

I got through all of the list of jobs that my wife left and added a couple of my own. I tidied up her knicker drawer and sorted it into type and colour. This is a task that I set myself unbidden years ago and I enjoy it. 

I even made some dividers so that there are compartments in the drawers for thongs, big knickers, boy shorts etc. My wife just throws them in after the laundry is done because she knows the fairies will come and sort them out.When she wears silk underwear she leaves it for me to wash by hand in gentle soap. This is a treat of submission.

After the chores I made time for a quick swim at the leisure centre and spotted a couple of attractive female bottoms in tight black swimwear. Very enjoyable to swim behind. 

I have dinner to prepare so I will sign off. I received quite a few visits to the wooden spoon blog yesterday, so if anyone has time to watch a nice  spoon spanking in action take a look at compromising position 

I could certainly do with a spanking right now but, hey - ho, must get on with the meal.

Have a  good Saturday evening

Friday, 23 August 2013

Caught out with a wooden spoon

The wooden spoon is often awarded to a person who come last in a race or a competition. In my case I was given  for being dense and careless.

It came about like this.  A few months ago I was driving my wife around the country as she made her business calls. I had no job at the time and we were happy to be together. On one trip I had a sense that she might do a spanking session in the hotel that evening. The only problem was that I had no implement with me so as I wandered around the local town I looked for a shop which might sell something useful. 

It was a medium size market town so it wasn’t ever going to have a "canes R us" but I did try an antique shop, but to no avail. I found a hardware shop and spotted a rack of kitchen items and "bingo", there was a super sized wooden jam making spoon. At £4.00 it was a bargain. I took the spoon back to the car and hid it under the mat in the boot (trunk) trunk on top of the spare wheel.

Later on  that afternoon I smuggled the spoon into the hotel bedroom. It went unused in the end so the next day before we drove off I put it back under the car mat. The problem was from that point on I forgot about it.

I next saw the spoon on the kitchen worktop yesterday evening and I instantly regretted my stupidity at not remembering where I had left it. As I stared at the spoon my wife glared at me.

“Drop your trousers and get over that table.”

I did as I was told and lay there with my short pants on and my knees trembling a bit.

“What the hell was this doing hidden in the car?” she shrieked her question as she waved the end of the spoon in front of my face.

She had taken my car to go with  a day off to a local auction sale. Having bought  a small item of furniture one of the staff carried it out for her and they were trying to squeeze it  into the boot.

 As they did so the carpet mat had rucked up and there was the spoon.

“I have never been so embarrassed in all my life,” my wife went on. “ The chap must have guessed it was an odd place to have a wooden spoon and I was covered in confusion. I actually said it must be my husband’s which sounds even weirder.”

The assistant had grinned apparently and said something like he could think of lots of uses for a wooden spoon but not in a car.

“I suppose I should be gratefull it wasn’t a cane or a paddle.” she said in an exasperated tone.

I began to explain why it had come to be there but she cut me short telling me that she had figured it all out, since I wasn’t known for buying things for the kitchen.

At this point she placed her left hand on the small of my back and began to spank me hard. 

Kitchen spankings are never on the bare bottom for hygiene reasons but over the thin stretched cotton of the pants the spanks from that spoon were still fiercely painful. The length of the spoon handle must have increased the radial velocity, or something like that, and the spanking was quite unbearable.

After quite a long time she had smacked all of my bottom and the tops of my legs. She ranted at me throughout the spanking telling me if I wanted a wooden spoon spanking she was going to give me one I would not forget. I was crying a bit by the time she stopped.

“ Get to your feet” 

She yanked down the back of the pants and expressed satisfaction at the results.

"From now on you buy nothing to with spanking without asking me. We have quite enough toys anyway so I am not short of anything to use on that bottom of yours."

I am still quite red this morning and when I made coffee I noticed that the spoon had been placed in the utility jar. I guess it might come out again.

Wednesday, 21 August 2013

Searching and finding - Part 1

After my post Searching I received an e mail.

Hi Michael
I liked your poem on your blog the other day. Maybe I am the woman you seek? I  live in Oxford and am studying for a Masters degree.Perhaps you would like to meet  up for a drink. Your move next.
PS To show you I am serious, here is a link to one of my favourite toys.

I stared at the screen. True or false, that was the question? I kept going back to look at the screen during the evening until I made the decision to respond.

Hello Adriana
Thanks for getting in touch. What you said sounds interesting. I could be in Oxford next Wednesday. Would you like to have a drink and a chat?

Just so we get off on the right foot it’s Miss Adriana to you. Your offer of a drink sounds nice but you will have to extend it to dinner if you really want my attention. Wednesday is fine – say 7.30 at Whitakers Brasserie. Don’t be late.

Hello Miss Adriana
Sorry for my rudeness last time. Of course I meant dinner. I look forward to meeting you. Could you send a photograph?

No photos. I will find you. Just so there is no misunderstanding I am not a professional but I am studying for a very expensive psychology degree and I like the good life.
I will see you Wednesday.

This was starting to get too much for me. I had the feeling it might be a scam but then again what could I loose (other than a ton of money in a blackmail scheme)?

Maybe I was about to be stupid, but then again maybe I would give up a huge opportunity if I did not show. I rang the restaurant to book a table and re-organised my diary to give myself a day off on the Thursday. I also found a decent hotel in Oxford for the Wednesday night. I figured that I could unwind everything if I changed my mind by Tuesday.

The next few days went by in a blur and on Tuesday I checked my e mails again just to see if there was a message from her calling the whole thing off. I had a suspicion that Adriana might turn out to be male and wondered what I would do if she was. To be truthful I don’t think I would have minded so long as he was young and good looking. I was seriously in need of a spanking.

I worked out a customer sales visit close to Oxford and made the call. They were free to see me the next day so the die was cast. I would go and the devil take the hindmost.

                                                Oxford girls can be so appealing.

Monday, 19 August 2013


I seek a dominant woman to take me,
Away from the light into the dark.
Where pain will replace the sullen sameness
Of a life half lived, spent in waiting
For the beauty of an angel who would lift
Her pretty arm and bend me to her will..

The stern beauty of this strong female
Would release me from the ties of drudge and
Let me lie across soft pillows whilst thorns of her whip lazily
Beat my skin into the red of a rose and,
In time with the rise and fall of her crop, I would
Lift and lower my body to receive the truth.

With slow deep breath, my chest will rise and fall, 
To the rythym of beating strokes sending a message
Of pain flooding into my heart; breaking
My mind into pieces of submission and loyal service.
I know this woman is out there and I know what she looks like.
I just need to find her.

Sunday, 18 August 2013

Pay attention to the cane

Not this week but last, I was in for a rude awakening when I arrived home on Friday, following my return from a week away on a temporary work contract.

As related previously, there has been no spanking or discipline in our household for many, many weeks now as my wife had seemed to lose interest in dealing with me.

I have been down in the dumps about that and exhibited grumpiness and bad natured behaviour, hoping perhaps to get noticed. Rather than taking me over her knee, my wife had responded by telling me forcefully to get my act together and stop being uncooperative.

When I entered the house on Friday there was a note on the hall table. It told me that my wife had arranged for us to go out with friends and that I should be the driver for the night.

Before that, she wrote, she expected me to get on with the ironing that had not been done all week. Nothing new there, but I got a sense that the note had something more “domineering” in her style than I had experienced recently.

I put my stuff away and showered and set about the laundry. I dressed in shorts and a shirt because it was unusually hot weather. Maybe an hour later I heard her car in the drive and put the kettle on for coffee.

She said hi and we talked for a while about our week and what I had earned in fees and then she went off to change. Ten minutes or so later and I heard her call me from the top of the stairs. I went into the hall.

“Get up here.” There was no mistaking the tone, as her voice carried clearly from the upstairs room.

I entered the bedroom to find her in bra, pants and tights and holding the longest cane that we have in our blanket chest.

“It’s time to sort things out and if the cane is the only way you will improve your attitude then so be it.”

I was gripped with a sudden feeling of dread. Be careful what you wish for, as they say.

“Fetch the chair from the spare room and come back here, sharpish!”

The bedroom was lit by the overhead light when I came back with the straight backed wooden chair from in front of the dressing table. My wife had drawn the curtains. Nobody could see in but she preferred not to take the chance. The evening was so sunny that there was still quite a lot of daylight coming round the sides of the curtains.

“Stand behind the chair and put your hands on your head.”

I watched her pace around the room in a circle as she lectured me on how fed up she was with me and my bad moods and how she demanded a change in my behaviour and a change right now.

Coming up behind me she placed the cane across the seat of the chair and unbuttoned the waistband of my shorts, letting them fall to the floor. I had an erection but she ignored it. With a swift movement she pulled my pants down to my knees.

“Get over the chair and lift up onto your toes. Do not move or moan. I want you silent the whole time. Understood?”

I started to say “Yes, ma’am” but thought better of it, so I just nodded. My erection, such as it was, waved in front of me as I moved to get into position

“I don’t know why you’re excited. This isn’t about sex, as you’ll find out in a minute.”

I shifted from one leg to the other trying to get in a position that did not have my prick squashed against the top of the chair back. I had to really stretch my legs to get right over and into a stable position and I very nearly toppled over, which would have made me look rather silly.

When I was ready and gripping the edge of the chair seat for balance, I saw her feet come round to the side of me. She swished the cane menacingly, creating that worrying zip in the warm air. Then, with an unwarranted touch of gentleness, the end of the cane tapped my bare bottom a few times before she lifted it high and slammed it into my bare cheeks.

The pain, following that sharp crack, rushed through my body and into my head and I gasped out the air in my chest that I had been holding in. The room fell quiet and I felt perfectly alone and at her mercy. This was the submission I had craved so much and now I was living the consequence of my desire.

“I am not counting and neither should you. I will stop when I want to. Understood?

I gave a small nod with my head before the cane struck again.

Getting into her stride she caned me steadily. 

The only sounds were the whoosh, crack and a groan from me, each time the cane rose and fell.

After 12 strokes I stopped counting in my head and just surrendered to the pain as sge whipped me steadily. Occasionally the cane landed on top of the mark of a previous stroke but in the main she cracked the bamboo over fresh skin.

If you are familiar with the cane you will understand that the first strokes are sharp and stingy, but that eventually the skin can go numb and then the feeling of soreness in the punishment ebbs away replaced with a deep throbbing . This was not the case in this particular session. My wife used a full swing of her shoulder and arm in order to deliver powerful strokes and by traversing from top to bottom she managed to find fresh skin with practically every stroke.

I struggled to keep position and my leg muscles strained to keep on my toes.  The skin on my bottom and the top of my legs was tightly stetched and the pain when my wife struck the cane on the backs of my legs was excruciating.

I tried to gain the plateau of subspace in order to tolerate the punishment but the harsh strokes prevented me from entering the zone. I began to yelp as she lashed harder than she had ever done before.

“Getting the message now are we, Michael?”

I whispered “Yes ma’am”, very quietly.

“You can answer that.”

She struck again this time just above my knees.

“Yes ma’am” I tried to shout it out but my voice croaked.

“That’s good and just so you know I am getting a lot of satisfaction from this.”

As she struck again and again I could feel a tremor of resistance fill my head. Why I am I crouched here, taking this from her, I thought, when I could just get up and walk away?

Instantly, that other darker side of my brain told me to lie still and take it.

By this time she had maybe given me 50 or more strokes and I needed to relax my muscles and go down onto my feet.  I just could not stay on my toes anymore.

My wife paused and I thought maybe she was done and my whipping was over.

“You’re not in the proper position.”

“I can’t Miss, I mean ma’am.”

“Yes, you can. I’ll show you that you can. Lift one leg.”

I wobbled a bit but did as she said.

Whizz crack the cane smacked the sole of my foot in a downwards diagonal stroke.

I cried out and slammed the burning foot back on the floor.

“”Now lift the other one.”

“No Miss, please Miss.”

“Just do what I say or it will be more than one stroke.”

Reluctantly I lifted the other leg and bent my knee.

This foot smacking had only happened once or twice before in our FLR. We had talked a few years ago about corporal punishment on different parts of the body when we were in bed one night. She was intrigued that I enjoyed being whipped across my penis and balls and inner thighs and she had asked what other areas I wanted to try. I mentioned getting the cane on the soles of my feet and also getting the ruler or strap on the backs of legs, low down below the knee, which had happened to me at school.

It was about a month later that she experimented with applying the cane to my feet and she didn’t need to make many strokes before I was whimpering for it to stop.

So now the cane cracked against my left foot and I stamped both feet hard on the soft carpet to try and dispel the pain.

Regretting my disobedience, I slowly lifted my self up over the chair and back onto my toes.

“There you are you see. You can get into position when you try harder.”

The caning on my bottom commenced again and this time she was much quicker at recovering the stroke and slashing at me again. The whoosh, crack, whoosh, crack came in rapid fire strokes and I began to sob.

“Please Miss, please.” I moaned

“Please what? Speak up! Please continue or please stop? It doesn’t really matter either way. You brought this on yourself and I will take where I want to go, not you.”

The punishment resumed in rapid fire strokes and I was perspiring with the strain of keeping still and staying silent.  I didn’t realise that I had started moaning each time she whipped me, until she told me to stop. My wife believes that if this CP is my thing then I shouldn’t make a fuss when she hands it out.

The minutes passed as the caning went on and on. At last she threw the cane down on the floor and went off to the bathroom. I did not move until she called out that I should put everyting away and get back to the ironing.

I pushed myself back on to my feet and rubbed my bottom. I could feel the ridges and some of the lines. I felt lightheaded and joyful. My head was clear and I was back in a good place. Pulling up my shorts I went through to thank my wife but the door was locked.

“Go away.”

I left the bedroom taking the cane and the chair with me. In the guest room I opened the wardrobe and pulled down my shorts and pants. Looking over my shoulder at the mirror on the inside of the door I saw a well reddened bottom with many purply-white lines across the full surface of my cheeks. There was hardly an area from the tops of my legs  to my hips that had not received a cane stroke. I was impressed by my wife’s skill and determination.

That evening was total pleasure and I was Mr Cheerful himself.When we climbed into bed after a good supper out my wife threw off the bed sheet and pulled her panties off. The invitation was clear and I went muff diving with pleasure. It is hard to grin with a mouth full of peachy lips but I certainly felt like the cat who had gotten the cream. As I gave myself a hand job later on my wife whispered that things would get back to normal now, or so she hoped, and she thought that a bath-brush spanking the next morning would not go amiss.

 I came vigorously, in happy agreement with every word she said.